


Submerge

by Lizzen



Category: Aquaman (2018), Justice League (2017)
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Surprise Guests - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzen/pseuds/Lizzen
Summary: Sometimes, all we know is falling.Post-Aquaman. The Justice League calls on the princes of the sea for help in a terrible battle. And in the aftermath, Arthur finds how unsteady the ground beneath him truly is.





	Submerge

**Author's Note:**

> Wow this took me forEVER to finish, thx depression! Anyway, hooray!!!
> 
> Thanks to the incomparable brodinsons and ever enabling th_esaurus xoxoxo

His generals show him live feed of a submarine, a strange sort with a rather specific design and emblem on it. It’s nearing Atlantis, but unlikely to get much closer. “Surface dwellers can’t handle the depths, the pressure,” one of them says, proud. “But he’s closer than we thought possible.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and leans back on his throne. “Fucking show off.” Then he looks up and breathes out. They wouldn’t be looking for him if it was just a social call.

 

*  
“What,” he says, gruff. “I’m in the middle of a regime change.”

They’re on a nearby island. Arthur is standing in the waves, refusing to leave the sea. The beached Batsub is a few feet away, and Bruce and Diana are looking at each other before facing him.

“You look good,” Diana says, and then she gestures to his trident. “Suits you.”

A little color fills his cheeks, but he keeps his frown. “Why are you here?”

“We need you,” Bruce says.

“Not interested,” he replies.

Diana smiles at him. “You wouldn’t have come if you weren’t interested.”

He glares at her and takes a few steps forward, the water against his feet. “So you need me, _of course_ you need me.”

It’s then that he notices how pale Bruce looks, and Diana’s bloodshot eyes. He wonders how long it’s been since either of them slept.

“And if you have any friends,” Bruce says, “we need them too.”

 

*  
Arthur races to Atlantis, swimming as fast as he can so he doesn’t have to think about what happens next. What Mera will say when he tells her what has to be done.

 

*  
“Brother,” Orm says, not looking up from his book. Arthur takes several strides to get close, stand over him. He looks good, considering. “What brings you to my cell today?” he says, bored.

“I need you,” Arthur says. “On the surface.”

Something shudders through Orm, and he blinks. Puts down the book. Carefully looks up. “You what?”

 

*  
The introductions don’t take long. There’s two new faces, Dinah and Caitlin. “J’onn is undercover right now, you’ll meet him later,” Clark says.

“This is my baby brother,” Arthur says, casual. “He’s a dick.” He’s not told anyone about the war that could have been, but he knows they suspect.

Diana reaches out her hand to shake Orm’s. “Thank you for joining us,” she says and he raises her hand to his lips, kisses it lightly. Says nothing but looks every bit a well mannered king.

Arthur doesn’t like it, but it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. He turns to Clark. “Do we have a game plan?”

 

*  
Brainiac has taken control of Luthor Corp’s assets; the good, the bad, the unspeakable. Metropolis is still trying to evacuate but his growing army of machines make it difficult. Washington is under siege and the president’s whereabouts are unknown. And Gotham, well. Bruce may have to spend his fortune fixing it now.

Orm is flipping through news channels, watching the horrors, and his face is unreadable.

“You probably think we should go home, let the surface dwellers handle this. Or perish,” Arthur says. “You probably think--”

“My mother lives on the surface,” Orm says simply. As if that answers everything.

 

*  
Arthur opens a channel to Mera, who rules in his absence. Keeping the seven seas whole while he takes to the land and air. “I should have dragged you up here too,” he says. “We’re likely to lose.”

“How’s Orm?” she says. “Has he murdered you in your sleep yet?”

He grins. He misses her, misses seeing red in the periphery of his vision. “Not yet,” he replies.

 

*  
They’re in Metropolis, in the ruins of a five star hotel. It will be some time before Clark makes contact, puts them into action. Orm finds a four poster bed, barely damaged, and sits on it. He looks carefully at Arthur, as if to dare him to say something. He removes his helmet and lays down on the bed, closes his eyes and begins to lightly snore.

Arthur stares at him, at how calm he looks. Eye of the storm, and his brother is sleeping like a babe. It’s a strange feeling inside him, how much he wants to crawl in there with him. Wrap him up in his arms, and sleep until everyone else on the team takes care of this nonsense.

He remembers longing for his baby brother. Wanting to walk across the sand with him and ask him so many questions. Get hamburgers and milkshakes. Watch movies and talk about their mom. Look in his eyes and see her. Tuck him in and kiss him goodnight. His little face peaceful, content.

Years lost, he thinks, and so many lives lost.

 

*  
“He is a valiant warrior,” Diana tells him. “We are honored to have him among us. You should be proud.”

“He almost killed me, like, a million times,” he admits.

“But he didn’t,” she says. And when he opens his mouth with a retort, she repeats, “he didn’t.”

Arthur crosses his arms, but nods his head. Forgiveness is still such a strange taste in his mouth.

 

*  
Barry gets them both into position and the princes of the sea begin a final assault on Brainiac’s many lieutenants. Arthur is reminded of the Trench, reminded of being overwhelmed but now his brother is at his side. There is peace in knowing they’re together, well matched as they brutally smite their enemy.

There is noise and light and the shaking of the earth coming from where the others battle Brainiac. Arthur does not envy them, he knows he is no match for a twelfth-level intellect.

The machines seem to triple in number and Arthur loses sense of time, loses sense of where he is and how he got there. Loses Orm in the battle. He can’t look for him, can’t claw his way through to find him. Hopefully find him alive.

The clang of his trident against metal rings through the air for what feels like days, and his heart races. He must, he must continue. He must--

 

*  
Is it days, is it hours--

 

*  
A scream fills the air, a terrible sound, and the machines fall to the ground. Inoperable. Stunned, Arthur takes a step forward, staring at the desolation around him and he feels dizzy. Unable to breathe. An exhaustion turned into vertigo. He may be half Atlantean, but he is also half human. His eyes shut and his feet seem to fly out from under him and he crashes down and all he sees is black.

 

*  
“Arthur,” he hears. “Arthur, wake up.” A hand is holding his so tight it hurts. “Arthur, hear me.” The voice is familiar but he can’t quite place it, he’s so tired, he’s so _tired_. “Arthur, you have to wake up.” There’s a pause and the voice continues, so soft now: “Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me alone. Not now. Not when --”

“Arthur!” he hears, and can place the voice. Diana. “Can you carry him?”

“Yes,” he hears, and feels himself being lifted into the air, as if he weighs nothing at all.

 

*  
His eyes open. He’s in a bedroom, unfamiliar. A soft bed with softer pillows. He shifts and senses that he’s out of his armor. He feels clean. He feels--

“Arthur,” he hears and when he looks towards the sound, he sees Orm in a chair looking worse for wear.

“You look like shit,” Arthur says, his voice slurring a little. Orm’s smile fills his entire face and something thuds hard in Arthur’s chest. _He’s beautiful_ , he thinks for the first time. _The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

 

*  
Clark sent Brainiac to the Phantom Zone, Orm tells him, as if Arthur knows what that means. You’re in Bruce’s palace, Orm tells him. I thought I lost you, Orm tells him.

Arthur chuckles. “I’m sure you would have liked that,” he says, and looks away. Regrets the words immediately because -- because--

He doesn’t want to hear Orm concur. Doesn’t want to see the hairline fractures in this truce. Doesn’t want--

“Don’t be a fool,” Orm says. It’s quiet, it’s deadly quiet.

It takes a lot of nerve to turn, look at him. Look at his brother’s face. Orm is pale, angry. Angry with him. A shadow over his face. And then it’s gone and his face is back to neutral.

And Arthur wonders.

 

*  
It’s late and he’s drank a number of wine bottles from Bruce’s private cellar. He’s up the stairs and unable to find his room, so he staggers into an empty guest room. Lies on the bed and groans and then laughs and then rolls over and falls asleep.

He wakes up in the middle of the night and Orm is next to him, sitting up. Moonlight fills the room. “He talked to me,” Orm says quietly. Arthur blinks, not sure about the reality of any of this. Wondering if it’s a dream.

“Who?”

“Brainiac,” Orm says. “When I lost you in the battle. He spoke to me through the comms. I don’t know how he did it, but he did.”

Arthur considers this and holds his tongue. Curious. Orm looks at him for a moment before turning his head away.

“He offered me my heart’s desire,” he says. “And in return, I would turn on you, turn on your friends.”

There’s a moment before: “I see that you didn’t,” Arthur says, his voice hoarse.

“Mmm,” Orm says. “Twelfth level intellect and yet--” He’s quiet for a moment. “Scoot over.”

The ask is a little startling but Arthur is too drunk, too sleepy to deny him. To respond with a question. So he moves aside, leaving room for Orm to lie down next to him. Lie on top of the soft bedspread a few inches from him. Close his eyes.

Arthur watches him for a long time, listening to the steadiness of his brother’s breathing. Feeling unsteady himself.

 

*  
He dreams that night. It’s unusual; all underwater and murky and dark and he can’t see and he can’t feel and he can’t--

And Orm finds him, a pale hand at his wrist clutching tight. And Orm touches him, a wonderful feeling with fingers brushing against his skin. A shivery sort of sensation all over. And Orm-- and Orm--

Arthur finds himself with his brother’s lips pressed against him, his body pressed against his, his soul barred against his.

 _No._ “You’re my--” he starts.

“We don’t care about that here,” Orm says, easily. As if it’s simple.

“I care,” Arthur says.

“No,” Orm says, not exactly patronizing. “You don’t.” And his hand grips Arthur’s chin, and he moves in to possess his mouth--

Arthur wakes up hard, an unforgiving sort of feeling, and when he rolls over, he sees that he’s alone.

 

*  
Diana presides over the discussion, and each bring up their ideas for the clean up.

Orm opens his mouth and offers Atlantean technology; stuff and nonsense that the surface has never seen before. His speech is eloquent, and his details thorough, and his plan impressive. He’s obviously put some thought into this.

Arthur bristles; it’s not his role anymore to offer such things. Arthur is King, Arthur is--

And yet, he considers how little he knows of Atlantis and its wonders, how little he knows his brother.

“Why?” Bruce says, sudden. Steel in his voice. “You were going to ruin us once.” He leans back in his chair, raises his chin. “Weren’t you?”

There’s a silence. And then--

“Our mother lives on the surface,” Orm says simply. As if that answers everything.

 

*  
Later, he finds him on the roof. Staring out at Gotham’s river. His hair is loose, soft in the breeze.

“At this distance, you can’t see how polluted it is,” Orm says, loud enough for Arthur to hear. “It is quite beautiful.”

Arthur’s eyes are on his brother. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, it is.”

“It still serves a purpose, I suppose,” Orm says, turning. “When do I go back?”

The words are such a shock that Arthur takes a step back. “Where?” he says, lost.

“To my prison, of course,” Orm replies, all business. “I’ve served my purpose.”

His mind blanks out, words stuttering in his mouth. “I was thinking--” he tries.

“Oh, a difficult task.” A sly smile. He takes a step closer. “It’s time. I should return.”

“I was thinking you should stay here,” Arthur blurts out, fast, so fast. “Help here. On the surface.” He opens his mouth and then shuts it, watching surprise color Orm’s face. His mouth a little agape, and then, as if trained -- trained all his life to hide his feelings -- his face goes neutral again. Arthur can’t stand it. Needs, desperately needs a reaction. “This is prison enough for you. Prison of earth and sky. This--”

“Will you be here?,” Orm says, expressionless. “With me?”

There’s an ache growing in his heart like a canker, growing fast. Threatening to paralyze him completely. He can’t imagine, he just simply can’t--

“Yes,” he says.

“For that, I am--,” and he hesitates, “--grateful.” The change is immediate. Orm looks years younger. He looks vulnerable, open. This is not a king, but a man.

Arthur’s fists clench, keeping him steady as his knees feel like water. This is not-- He should not feel this way, not here. Not with him.

Orm takes a step closer, then another, and another until they’re nearly touching. He wants-- oh _god_ he wants-- His gaze lowers, staring at his brother’s lips. Pink and slightly parted. Soft.

And then: “I’m not going to stop you,” Orm says. And what is left unsaid is louder, so loud that Arthur can barely manage. It’s horrible.

“You should-- I can’t--,” Arthur says, dizzy from want. Starving for clarity. “Are the customs different in Atlantis?” He’s not quite able to breathe.

“No,” Orm says. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Arthur is trembling now. “I shouldn’t--”

“You’re the king, and I’m your subject, your prisoner. You should take what you want,” Orm says.

“No--”

“Take it, own it, hurt it if you want to,” Orm says. It’s almost a whisper now. “That’s your right. And that’s what is honest, and what is real. Isn’t that what really matters?”

“ _Brother_ ,” Arthur says, weak. “This can’t--”

“You can’t possibly imagine how sweet I will taste, _brother_ ,” Orm says. “And how alive I will make you feel.”

Arthur gasps out.

“But if you think I’ll let you go, you’re a fool.” He tilts his head. “Yet, much wiser beings than you have failed to understand.” Orm says. “For, you see, _you_ are my heart’s desire.”

The dam breaks, and he’s well and fully lost. When his mouth meets Orm’s, all he can feel is a fire. Blazing bright without any hope of an ending.

He devours his brother’s mouth, and with every passing second, he starves for more. There’s no possible way he can touch every inch of his skin at once, but he’s going to damn well try. His dick aches, desperate. He should-- he should take better care but there’s a roar in his ear and a barrage of licentious thoughts and wanton needs batter him.

“That’s it,” Orm says, and his grip is like a vise. Arthur wonders how and if they can ever part now. “Don’t stop, don’t--”

A kiss silences him; an open mouthed, filthy kiss that seems to go on forever. Lips and teeth and tongue and Orm is gasping for air but Arthur doesn’t care. Doesn’t let up. Doesn’t stop. They kiss and kiss and kiss and somehow tumble onto the ground, Orm on top of him and his hand finding his dick. Arthur nearly howls when it happens, and fully does when Orm squeezes gently. “Later, much later, when you fuck me with this,” he says, and Arthur almost comes at those words, “I want it to feel this good--”

In the expanse of a heartbeat’s time, Orm has moved, Orm is on his knees in a strange crouch over him, Orm is sucking Arthur’s dick down so swift, so tight, so deep, and Arthur sees black first before white before he sees the goddamn _stars_.

It’s embarrassing how fast he comes, and how hard. His body shakes and shudders and he shatters apart. Lips stretched over his dick, an amused hum against his skin. Orm has destroyed him and all Arthur wants is for it to happen again and again until there’s nothing left.

He stares up at the sky; dick spent, skin aflame, and his heart beating so fast. “You’re my brother, and you’re mine,” he says, not quite sure of anything else. The world could be collapsing upon itself and he wouldn’t know, wouldn’t care.

“I am your brother and I am yours,” Orm says, and there are lubed fingers at his rim, pressing in. Begging entrance. God knows where the lube came from, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too much and it’s perfect and he allows it, gasping as his brother stretches him out, readying him. Pleasure overwhelms him, and he feels almost giddy from it. Laughing, he reaches up for kisses, and is granted many. Sweet, judicious kisses and a tongue sliding against his own. Orm tastes like salt and desire and hunger and Arthur wants more, wants--

It’s a shift to get them in the right position, but then Orm slides inside him like they were made for this, and Arthur keens. “I’ve never fucked a king before,” Orm says.

“Get used to it,” Arthur says, jutting his hips and Orm giggles, as if he’s a young man again, and then it’s almost a punishing pace that he begins. An onslaught of feeling and sensation; filled so completely as his dick sinks into him again and again and again and--

For a moment, Arthur imagines them as one being, inseparable. And it’s as it should be. It’s how they were meant to be. He’s hard again, he’s hard as rock and Orm is pulsing inside of him, crying out as he does. The rhythm continues until he’s worn out, until he’s done, until every last drop is spent and Arthur sighs as Orm pulls out. A messy, wet sound, and Arthur grabs his own dick, grabs and tugs and it’s too painful. His hand drops but his dick is--

Orm’s fingers brush against it. Teasing, teasing, until Arthur’s lips crash against Orm’s. The wild, unruly kisses of a king. Orm’s eyes are shut so tight as he kisses back and tugs Arthur’s dick into a pleasure yet unknown. And there’s the whisper: “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

Helpless, Arthur repeats the words and that’s when Orm smiles.

 

**THE END**


End file.
